


Venice Is Sinking

by butt_muncher_seven



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Sex, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Rare Pair, Xenophilia, brothers in arms, burdens of command, never been the first one in a ship tag but here we go, the rarest apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butt_muncher_seven/pseuds/butt_muncher_seven
Summary: Shepard has never felt so far away from the front. Half the galaxy is up in flames and he's stuck playing nice with frightened diplomats, reading about the action from lightyears away. He loves his friends, but sometimes it seems like the brand new Primarch is the only one who really understands.





	Venice Is Sinking

**Author's Note:**

> I gave my Shepard the name “Jeremy” so he’d be embarrassed by it and insist on being called by his last name always. Not that it really has any bearing on this fic but he’s the survivor of a Batarian colony raid (Colonist) and the Butcher of Torfan (Ruthless), played more or less Paragrade style.

Shepard tossed the latest datapad listing casualties on Palaven onto a pile of similar datapads, all bearing bad news and death tolls so high they slid past tragedy and into the abstract. It was an effort not to just chuck it against the wall. He wasn’t sure how other species managed, but Shepard felt like his brain was only able to grasp the edges of how horrible this war was. Sentients were dying in the millions and he fixated on a single child. 

Alone – mostly - in the war room, Shepard indulged his exhaustion, scrubbing his face with a rough hand, rolling his shoulders, kicking his feet off the table to stand and stretch. Usually with the crew around he wouldn’t – he couldn’t – he owed his people strength. The entire galaxy was going to shit but they had Commander Shepard at the helm, intrepid and undefeatable. An answer to the question “how the hell are we getting out of this one?” Shepard our immovable center. All he had Anderson, who needed to believe in him too. A Council that vacillated between unconcerned and frantic. A commission to unite the galaxy from Admiral Hackett. Sometimes Shepard envied his past self, low enough on the chain of command to have faith in the infallibility of his superiors. Now that he’d met the galaxy’s key players, now that in some ways he was one of them… things seemed so much less certain. 

Primarch Victus looked up from his work as Shepard’s boots hit the ground, sharp eyes taking in every detail of his movement. His mandibles quivered slightly, like Garrus did before he made some dry remark about Shepard’s dancing or driving or taste in unavailable men. 

“Tiring already, Commander?” Victus asked.

“Just got done with the latest figures from Palaven.” He said tightly.

“Ah.” Victus replied, voice tinged with understanding. “That is not a report I enjoyed reading. How are the figures from Earth?”

Shepard fished a pad out from under the pile and tossed it at him. He folded his arms and leaned against the table while the Primarch scanned it.

“I see the Alliance is having still having difficulty estimating casualties.” He remarked. 

Shepard found that the statement didn’t irritate him like he expected. The turian spoke without scorn, only understanding. They were in similar positions, the two of them. Soldiers forced into diplomatic roles while their people fought and died below them. Two men finding themselves unexpectedly responsible for the lives of billions, working with a margin of error so small it might as well not exist.

“Earth never unified the way Palaven did.” Shepard found himself explaining. “There’re too many independent nations involved, even if the Alliance had enough ground presence to keep an accurate assessment.” Victus nodded, standing to hand the datapad back.

“Your crew is handling the situation admirably.”

“Well, they’ve got enough practice going into high-risk missions.” Shepard laughed, before adding, “Not that anything anyone’s ever faced really compares to this. Maybe we should borrow some turian traditions.”

Victus raised an eyebrow. Or, he raised one of his forehead plates, a gesture that seemed to translate.

“Garrus told me about serving on a turian warship, how the crew was allowed to let of steam in a, uh, controlled environment.”

“Ah yes. I have heard that humans are restricted to shore leave or lying to their CO.” 

Shepard snorted, smiling despite himself. “I don’t know if that makes us seem chaotic or repressed.”

“Why stop there?” Victus remarked dryly. “I can think of so many more adjectives to describe humanity by.”

“Charming? Imaginative?” Shepard put on a coy face. “ _Irresistible?_ ”

Now it was the turian’s turn to give a short laugh. “Something like that.”

They fell into a companionable silence, listening to the quiet hum of the Normandy’s engines. Shepard found himself relaxing, a bit, intoxicated with having a colleague to talk to. 

“So what do turian ship captains do? Are they excluded from pre-engagement…” Shepard fumbled for a word “..merrymaking?”

“It depends on the officer. Some will engage in sparring with crewmembers, others stay aloof. It’s important to toe the line between being acquainted with your soldiers and being overly familiar.”

“Does that include romantic entanglements?” He was procrastinating now and he knew it. There were a dozen more reports to write and be read, but still he stayed, leaning on a conference table, flirting with the turian Primarch.

“No. I imagine the Alliance has similar concerns about consent and the chain of command.” Victus paused, ruminating. His jaw tensed and relaxed. “It gets lonely at the top,” He sighed.

The console they were leaning on pinged. Victus excused himself briefly to read the report, eyes darkening with every line.

“What news?” Shepard prompted, when the Primarch stayed silent. 

“I’ve just learned that the squad I was in charge of on Palaven was destroyed protecting the Second Flank’s retreat.” He was gripping the edge of the console very tightly. “I should have been there. _I should have been there._ ”

Words, usually so reliable, stuck in Shepard’s throat. He rested a hand on Victus’ back instead, hoping to offer some small comfort. Victus turned around, breathing hard. He took Shepard’s face in both hands and kissed him, hard.

Kissing turians was always an experience. There were the teeth, of course. Sharp, pointy, to be watched out for. The surprisingly flexible lips, the fluttering mandibles. It was the tongue that always got Shepard though, the few times he’d hooked up with a turian. Long, sinuous, and slightly raspy, Victus’ tongue surveyed Shepard’s mouth with astounding competence. He stroked the soft palate of Shepard’s mouth, sending nerve impulses straight to his dick. When he wrapped his tongue around Shepard’s and slowly sucked up and down, Shepard nearly died of arousal.

He removed his hands from Victus’ waist and started pulling at the belt on his uniform. Turians had long, tapered, well-lubricated penises just perfect for spontaneous sexual encounters, but they hid them quite cunningly. It took a practiced hand to draw them out of their protective sheath. Shepard deftly stroked the tight slit at Victus’ crotch while the Primarch plundered his mouth. He could feel the wet tip slowly protruding between his fingers. As he gently teased it out the bright blue organ, it in turn stroked gently at his hand. His kissing grew more and more distracted as he played with it. It responded to touch beautifully, growing thicker and longer and wetter by the second. Finally Victus pulled back, faintly out of breath. 

“Can I have you, Commander?” The question seemed unnecessarily formal, but that was forgiveable. Shepard pushed his pants down toward his thighs and bent over the console.

“Hell yes. Let’s engage in some diplomatic relations.”

Victus snorted, which was more than that remark deserved, and angled his fully extended dick so that the tip circled around Shepard’s entrance. It teased him for a moment, firm and slick and everything Shepard needed right now. Finally, _finally_ , he pressed in. With one hand on Shepard’s shoulder and another on his hip for leverage, Victus rocked his hips, pushing deeper into Shepard’s ass with every stroke. The steadily increasing width of him spread his ass wider and wider. He was near to bottoming out when Victus gave a strangled moan and proceeded to fuck him in earnest. He pushed Shepard down against the console with a firm hand, holding him there by the neck as he pounded into him from behind. Shepard moaned a little, reveling in the brief loss of control. His dick twisted and writhed within him, adding an extra layer of stimulation. 

Shepard grasped his own dick firmly, stroking faster and faster as Victus pounded into him. Pinned down and fucked hard, Jesus, this was just what he needed right now. A chance to stop thinking so goddamn much and just _feel._ Victus’ bony, alien hips slapped against his ass. Hopefully EDI had locked the doors. She was usually pretty good at that stuff. Victus’s hand tightened on the back of his neck and Shepard abruptly stopped caring. Anything else could wait for later. When he felt his climax coming he fisted the head of his cock even tighter, catching the cum before it splattered all over sensitive military hardware. Victus’ grip clamped down, bruisingly tight, shoving his face into the console as he came with a groan, thrusting his hips just a few more times. They stayed there for a moment panting.

Then Victus pulled out carefully, neatly retracting his dick into his body. Shepard wiped his messy hand on his own boxers, pulled his pants up into a semblance of respectability. Whatever. It would get him up to his quarters. 

“I’m gonna go.. sleep, probably.” Shepard waved tiredly, somewhere between an explanation and a dismissal. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Victus replied with a smile, already turning back to his work. 

Well. Seemed like the war just got a little bit more fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly ever since the “The battle of all time is happening on Palaven, and I’m light-years away, reading casualty reports in the millions. If I’m to die, I want to be with my men so there’s no doubt we fought to the last soul.” line I’ve been dying to read something where Shepard and Victus hook up. He’s just so _passionate_ and similar to Shepard in so many ways, I feel like they would’ve made good fuck buddies while it lasted.


End file.
